


Built To Fall Apart

by Fallen_Angel_Meg



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, First Kiss, Love Confessions, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-25
Updated: 2016-09-25
Packaged: 2018-08-17 03:27:50
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,996
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8128664
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Fallen_Angel_Meg/pseuds/Fallen_Angel_Meg
Summary: When will Dean and Cas finally be out of the woods?





	

**Author's Note:**

> Written for [Angvilicmish's](http://angvlicmish.tumblr.com) September Writing Challenge  
> Theme: Taylor Swift
> 
> Based around the song _Out Of The Woods_ by Taylor Swift. I highly recommend listening to [this](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=hHN0ca6lf1c) beautiful version for it was the true inspiration behind this fic.
> 
> I also want to warn of spoilers (just in case) for using a scene that'll appear in season 12, but know that I've changed what happens at the end of 11x23 just to give it a more happier ending with some finality.

Hands sprout from the ground like flowers. Flowers that have been residing in Hell for forty years, or to another, four months. It depends who’s asked. The flowers grow taller, a head eventually appearing after them, dirt and sweat covering the freckles Castiel knows adorns the paled skin.  
  
A flap of wings sounds beside him, lost on the tortured soul trying to claw his way out of the ground. Castiel doesn’t bother looking over. He knows who it is.  
  
“I had to see it for myself,” Uriel grunts.  
  
“You did not believe me when I announced Dean Winchester was saved?” Castiel asks plainly, keeping his attention on Dean as he flops on his back, lungs heaving for air.  
  
Uriel snorts. “He seems too weak to be Michael’s Sword.”  
  
Castiel stiffens, finally sliding his gaze to Uriel. “I just raised him from perdition. What do you expect?”  
  
“I suppose. We’ll see how he handles his responsibilities. The sooner he knows, the better.”  
  
“You will not communicate with Dean. He is in my charge and no one will speak to him without my permission,” Castiel says, voice more terse than he intends.  
  
His tone doesn’t go unnoticed by Uriel, who tears his gaze from Dean to glare narrowly at him.  
  
“Castiel, do you need reminding of what our purpose is? Do not get attached to this _human_. He is lesser than us. If he weren’t Michael’s Sword, he’d be just another worthless mud monkey.”  
  
Castiel flares his wings in warning. They’re not as full as they were before his trip to hell, having been damaged by the fighting, but they’re still impressive as they loom over Uriel. He drops his voice dangerously low, threatening. “I suggest you watch what you say, Uriel. Until you’re needed, I am dismissing you.”  
  
Uriel stares at him incredulously for a moment before snickering under his breath and vanishing. Castiel returns his attention to Dean again. He’s gotten to his feet, slowly surveying his surroundings. The dead grass, the circle of fallen trees that surround his grave. Castiel relaxes his wings once again, itching to communicate with Dean but resists. He needs time to adjust, to eat and hydrate before Castiel attempts to speak with him.  
  
For now, he’s content just watching over Dean.  
  
Castiel didn’t anticipate what their first meeting in Hell would be like. Finding Dean’s tortured, corrupted soul, Dean melting into his grace after he’d finally stopped resisting the rescue. Castiel could never guess how strongly he’d be affected by Dean, so much so he’d unintentionally left his mark on Dean’s shoulder.  
  
But Dean needed comfort. In the midst of the fighting, Dean clung to him, torn between needing to break away and continue cutting flesh and crumbling under the effects of Hell. It was when they were almost out that Dean looked up at Castiel, trembling with only one hoarse whisper escaping his lips.  
  
_“Are we out of the woods yet?”_  
  
Castiel held him more securely, strangely amused by the question despite them not being in any sort of forest. They were in Hell. Nevertheless, he answered Dean honestly.  
  
_“Almost, Dean.”_  
  


*****

The beads in the doorway rattle together before the wooden steps creak beside him. Dean glances over, finding Cas – well, future Cas – sitting beside him and munching on a brownie. Dean knows it’s not a normal brownie and snorts, shaking his head and looking away.

“I apologize - did you want some?” Cas offers the brownie to him.

Dean eyes the brownie, tempted to indulge in something to give some twisted logic to how the hell it’s possible he’s trapped in the year 2014. It’d make perfect sense if he were stoned. But he needs a clear head if they’re going after Lucifer.

“Thanks, but I gotta pass.”

Castiel shrugs, taking another bite and squinting out over the calm way everyone moves around camp, as if they weren’t marching to their deaths within the next twenty four hours. “Suit yourself. Think I should coax one down your future self’s throat? He’s anxious. Too tense.” Dean guesses Cas means it as a joke, but it comes out sad.

Dean glances over at him, following his gaze to where it rests on his future self. Dean recalls something weird Chuck said earlier, about Cas not going anywhere. Huh…

“So did we,” Dean clears his throat, “Uh, are we…” he trails off, a blush warming his cheeks. Dean’s not quite clear what his feelings for Cas are, but there’s something. Cas means _something_ to him, but what?

After being propelled into the future, he’s noticed something between his future self and future Cas. Could it really be that they…

Castiel grins at him, glazed over eyes tinted with sadness. “We’re just two paper airplanes flying, Dean.”

Dean huffs a laugh. He has no clue what that even means, but guilt still curls in his stomach at the words. It makes him unbelievably sad that, five years from 2009, this could be where they are – Cas broken and relying on drugs and sex to get by. Himself having been hardened by the apocalypse into something terrifying. And him and Cas…

“So we never made it out of the woods,” he snickers humorlessly, chest constricting.

Cas chuckles, a weird fondness softening his features. “I stand by my answer. Almost, Dean - one way or another.”

Dean furrows his brow. Stand by his answer?

He doesn’t get a chance to ask before Cas is called away from him.

For the next twenty four hours in 2014, Dean tries to change his future, make it less like the nightmare Zachariah wants him to see. But everything collapses around him. The first breath of relief he exhales is when he’s standing on a dark, quiet road in front of Cas, who has the smallest of smiles on his lips. Seeing him - _his_ Cas – calms him.

And Dean swears to himself that he won’t let them end up like those future versions of themselves. Dear God – if He’s even around – please don’t let them end up like that.

*****

Castiel shouldn’t interact with Dean. He should retrieve the journal with the necessary information and leave unnoticed, just like Crowley instructed him to do.

But he can’t. The look on Dean’s face after discovering Castiel’s betrayal… It hurt something deep within Castiel. He hates knowing Dean’s upset with him, that he hurt Dean in any way. Castiel needs to make him understand.

He’s not the bad guy.

Before he can second guess himself, Castiel makes himself visible to a stirring Dean trying to sleep on the couch.

The confrontation goes just as Castiel expects – horribly. The moment Dean spots him he’s tense despite the vague longing that pulls at Castiel’s grace. It tugs at him even after they’ve traded their desperate pleas to make the other see, intensifying when stomach churning threats are exchanged.

Castiel swallows, accepting that neither of them will budge. Not this time. “I know you don’t trust it, Dean, but Raphael must be stopped. Once I take care of him, it’ll all be over. We’ll be in the clear.”

Dean stares at him for a moment before shaking his head and turning away. “No we won’t, Cas.”

And that’s it. It’s all Castiel can do besides prove Dean wrong.

“I’m sorry, Dean,” he whispers before fleeing the scene, not waiting to hear Dean’s response. If there is one.

*****

The ache in Dean’s chest flares as he approaches Cas’ rigid back, the way it did when he first looked into those blue eyes after not seeing them for so long besides in the nightmares that haunted him endlessly. He tried so hard to protect Cas from remembering any of it. Being an angel, the damage he did, their falling out. Remembering _Dean_. It was better he didn’t.

It’s not Cas’ saying “I remember everything” that hits Dean hard. It’s his eyes. They’re cold and angry and frustrated, though none of it directed at Dean.

“Cas…” Dean begins before Castiel turns on his heel and walks away. Dean curses under his breath, growling for Meg to stay put and running after him.

“Cas, please. Just wait a sec,” he huffs but Castiel doesn’t slow his strides.

“Nothing you say will change anything, Dean. What I’ve done – it’s unforgivable.”

“You did the best you could, the best anyone could,” he insists but when Cas doesn’t respond, Dean grabs his wrist to spin him around, their eyes locking together. He shouldn’t have done that, but dammit, Dean’s terrified he’ll disappear again. Dean just got him back.

Castiel lowers his eyes. “I don’t understand why I’m still here. The damage I’ve done, it’s irreparable. I don’t… deserve to be here.”

Dean clenches his hand to keep from reaching out to Cas again. “That’s not true.” His voice is weak, hating how Cas could ever say that about himself.

Castiel slowly lifts his gaze back to Dean, his frown deepening. “We didn’t part on good terms, Dean. So what does it matter to you?”

A lump forms in Dean’s throat so tight he wonders if he’ll suffocate. What _does_ it matter to him?

It matters because despite all the shit they went through, it broke him to see Cas disappear into that river. Because he made sure to keep the only thing he had left of Cas in the trunk of each car they had to switch to. Because on the nights that were harder than others, he’d sneak out to the car and snag the coat just to hold it, sometimes bringing it back to bed to keep that remaining part of Cas with him. Because every night, when he’d lie awake listening to Sam’s troubled snores, he’d whisper one question to the void.

_“Are we out of the woods yet?”_

And every night, he’d listen for an answer that never came. Knew one would never come. But he asked anyway.

Why?

Dean can’t understand it, nor will he even dare say any of it aloud. Instead, he unlocks the trunk and pulls out the trench coat, giving it one last look before holding it out to Cas. They have a lot to work through, but they’ll get through it.

They have to.

*****

The ceiling is nothing but darkness. In fact, it engulfs him. And he hurts. It’s a hurt so deep, though Dean doesn’t understand why. After getting beat senseless, Cas healed him. There’s not one scratch on him. No lingering bruises.

He’s fine. Except he’s not.

Every time Dean closes his eyes, he’s haunted by that distant look in Cas’ eyes. The one that stared through him, completely void of emotion and awareness. Empty. Dean has that Naomi bitch to thank for that, but still.

After everything they’ve been through – Cas losing his marbles after transferring Sam’s broken mind to his own, taking down Dick Roman, getting blasted to Purgatory and spending a year there in an endless, bloody fight for survival – Dean thought that maybe this was the end of it all. Sure, he had his reservations, but he somehow got Cas back when he thought he was gone forever.

He thought they actually made it out of the woods, both in the literal and metaphorical sense.

How wrong he was. To think they ever stood a chance.

*****

It’s quiet when Castiel wakes. Near silent except the hum of the highway not too far away from the motel. He longs for the days when he could hear everything, like being able to hear Dean’s soft breathing last night after the lights were flicked off.

Even without his angelic abilities, Castiel still feels someone watching him. He crack his eyes open, already deciding it’s too early to be awake. But after focusing against the morning light streaming through the curtains, he finds Dean looking at him.

“Sleep well?” Dean murmurs, shifting with a light blush coloring his cheeks.

Castiel groans. “It’s too early.”

Dean chuckles. “Cas not a morning person. Duly noted.”

Castiel sits up, rubbing the sleep from his eyes while taking notice of the rumpled pillows and wrinkled covers next to him. As if someone laid on top of them. He looks to Dean, studying him for a moment before brushing it off. It’s a ridiculous thought. “Did you sleep well?”

Dean gets to his feet, grabbing his keys. “Like a baby.”

Castiel watches him for a moment, eyeing the dark circles under Dean’s eyes that say otherwise. He decides not to call him out on the lie, nodding when Dean says he’s going for a coffee run. By the time Castiel’s washed up for work, Dean’s returned, handing Castiel a cup. They sit at the table in the kitchenette, chatting about nothing while trying not to let their gazes linger too long.

Dean’s different. Something’s wrong and Castiel desperately wants to ask him about it, to ask Dean if they’re in the clear yet. If they’ll ever be in the clear. But Dean’s keeping him at arm’s length for a reason despite that inexplicable, ever present hint of guilt and longing etched into his eyes. Castiel aches to reach out to Dean, but he stops himself every time.

Castiel couldn't stay. Dean doesn’t want him.

So as they’re leaving and Castiel glances at the untouched bed Dean supposedly slept in, not a single wrinkle in the covers, he dismisses the thought instantly.

Wishful thinking is dangerous.

*****

Green eyes.

They’re all Castiel can focus on. From the moment he found Dean alone in the library with tendrils of death curling around him, to where he’s lying on the ground now, staring up into them. They’re the same beautiful green that Castiel loves, but they’re different now.

Pain blossoms over Castiel’s body, especially in his face where Dean repeatedly bashed him into a table. Though none of it compares to what’s deep down in the center of his damaged grace. Despite what’s happened Castiel can’t bring himself to harm Dean. He’s hurt him enough already. He won’t do it again.

“Dean, please,” he breathes out, pain flaring from the exertion but he forces himself to continue, “We can save you. Let me save you.”

Something flickers across Dean’s eyes, so fast Castiel half thinks he imagined it. But then green darkens once again, a hand pulls back before slamming next to his head, an angel blade buried in a book only mere inches away.

When Dean stalks out of the room, calling a dark threat over his shoulder, Castiel can only stare after him with one, hopeless thought in his mind.

_Are we in the clear yet?_

*****

The library is silent, but Dean still feels eyes on him. He turns to find Cas watching him with that weird expression heavy in the blue. The same expression he had when Dean burst into the room, not paying any attention to Mary pointing a gun at him. The same expression when Dean stumbled over to calm Mary, explaining Cas was good – he definitely didn’t almost say “my angel” instead of “ _an_ angel”. The same expression when Sam barreled in with a cocked gun at hearing all the shouting, and it remained through the teary reunions and Dean explaining everything.

Cas hasn’t said one word throughout the whole scene. Just watching Dean with that… that _look_. And all Dean wants to do, now that they’re alone with Sam leading Mary away to one of the spares, is be close to Cas.

“Hey Cas,” he murmurs, unsure what else to say.

Castiel doesn’t hesitate closing the space between them, wrapping his arms around Dean.

“You’re alive,” he breathes. All Dean can do is melt into Cas’ arms, bringing his own to return the hug.

“I’m alive.”

“I thought… I thought I lost you for good, Dean.” Cas’ arms tighten protectively.

“I know. I’m here though.” Dean closes his eyes, soaking up as much of Cas as he can. Back at the cemetery, he wanted to tell Cas everything. How much he cared about him and… he wanted to confess it all. But even while marching off to his death, he was terrified of screwing up their final moments together.

Dean pulls back enough to raise Cas’ chin so his glassy gaze is focused on him. “Before I left, I…” he trails off, chuckling under his breath because he’s so bad at this. “I didn’t say everything I wanted to say. I didn’t tell you how much you mean to me. Really mean.”

There’s a ripple in Cas’ throat but he stays quiet, letting Dean say what he needs to. He takes a deep breath before continuing, “And I was so stupid not to tell you, but I’m telling you now. Cas, I… I love you. And I can’t let another day go by without you knowing that. I won’t make that mistake again.”

A smile touches Castiel’s lips while he stares at Dean with the softest expression that makes him want to shy away and melt into Cas at the same time.

“I have loved you for so long, Dean. When I pulled you out of Hell, it's like… the world was black and white, but us - the moment I touched you, we were in screaming color. I’ve never experienced something so… profound.”

Dean exhales shakily, tears pricking behind his eyes. Ignoring them, he brings his hand to cup Castiel’s cheek and guide their lips together. The first kiss is really just a brush of lips, testing the waters, but it melts quickly into a real kiss. One that makes Dean’s insides flutter with unimaginable happiness.

“Please, don’t go anywhere. I can’t lose you again,” Castiel whispers.

Dean pulls back to look at him, brushing his thumb down Cas’ stubbled cheek. “That goes for you too.”

Castiel smiles. “I wouldn’t dream of it.”

Dean chuckles. “So do you think we’re finally out of the woods?”

“Perhaps not," Cas murmurs, eyes shining, "but I’d say we’re in the clear.”

Dean grins, pulling them back together and leaving one whispered word on Cas’ lips.

“Good.”

**Author's Note:**

> I loved writing this and I hope you all enjoyed :)  
> [My Tumblr](http://blissfulcastiel.tumblr.com)


End file.
